


The Patients of a Saint

by Skierunner



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 5 +1 Format, Angela is Done with Your Shit, Assorted Overwatch Characters, Cussing, F/M, Gen, Humor, More angst than I remember writing but mostly happy!, POV Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Rare Insults, Sassy Mercy, Snarky Reaper, mercykill - Freeform, mild violence, mild vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 10:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19227745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skierunner/pseuds/Skierunner
Summary: Joining Overwatch the first time was simultaneously the best and worst decision of Angela's life. Joining the second time should have landed her in a psych ward. Although, given the general insanity of the other agents, maybe it had.---Angela has too many patients and not enough patience.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dan_Francisco](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dan_Francisco/gifts).



**I**

_What the ever-loving fuck._

Angela stared at the communicator, stunned into silence.

“Um, Doctor Zeigler?” Winston asked, putting his face much too close to the camera. “Did our connection freeze?"

Taking a deep breath, Angela lightly shook herself. She must have misheard. Simple as that.  “I’m sorry Winston, but could you repeat what you said?”

“We’re putting Overwatch back together!” As close to the camera as he was, Angela could only see Winston’s large canines when he smiled.

  
“I... I see.”

“Well?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “I’m... not sure what you want me to say.”

“Say you’ll join us!”

Angela rubbed her temples. “Join you?” _Oh, sure, let me just quit my job, abandon all my patients, fly halfway around the globe on some hair-brained scheme to bring back the Good Old Days. I can’t wait to relive the interdepartmental politics, Geneva violations, and-- oh! Can’t forget about the homegrown terrorist cells, can we? My, what wonderful memories!_

“Your experience and knowledge would prove invaluable!” Winston pressed. “Even if you only joined for advisory purposes, it’d be immensely helpful.”

_Well, I’ll just send you my consultation fee._

“And we’re already receiving responses to the Recall! We won’t be working bare bones!”

_Of course, I’m sure so_ many _former agents will leap at the chance to rejoin the great Overwatch! Anyone would give up the life they’ve managed to salvage from the Fall if it meant being a part of the new and explicitly illegal attempt to save the world from itself._

“Um, Doctor Zeigler? Should I take your silence as a, um, as a no?”

Angela blinked. Winston was watching her with a concerned yet vulnerable expression.

Of course her answer was no. Absolutely not. Under _no_ condition could she be convinced to go back to _Overwatch_ of all things. It was shut down for a reason, after all. There was simply no way she could afford to destroy the life she had worked so hard to rebuild only to return to the place that caused its destruction in the first place.

But then Winston finally eased away from the camera and she caught a glimpse of the framed photo on his desk. Possibly the last photo of the commanders Reyes and Morrison together, surrounded by friends so dear they were practically family. She was in that photo, too, of course. Right between Gabriel and Jesse. Young, bright-eyed, hopeful.

_Foolish_.

Winston was as surprised as she was when she finally said, “Mercy on call.”

 

**II**

Truly, she had no idea how they even made it _this_ far. By all accounts, so many people shouldn’t have answered the Recall-- but there were roughly a dozen agents present for the mission brief. Some had come out of hiding to join. Some came out of retirement. And some had crawled out of their graves.

Angela side-eyed one of the agents who pulled a Lazarus-- and how atrocious was it that there had been more than one? ‘Heroes never die’ was supposed to be _figurative_. They didn’t even have the decency to resurrect in threes. Unaware of her ire, Ana laughed and patted Reinhardt’s arm fondly.

“I don’t approve of what you’ve done with my biotic technology,” Angela said pointedly, not bothering with pleasantries.

Ana faced her and rolled her single eye. “I’m sorry you feel that way.” With a satisfied smirk, the elderly sniper held up one of her purple biotic grenades and gave it a shake. “But it suits _my_ purposes now.”

Angela’s eye twitched. Do no harm. Do no harm. _Do no harm_. “It is not--”

“Angela! It has been too long.” Angela staggered under Fareeha’s sudden embrace.

“Fareeha,” _you overgrown pigeon, I’m trying to defend my work and call out this wretched hag!_ “I was just speaking to your mother.”

“Oh,” Fareeha said, eyeing Ana cooly. _Certainly no love lost there._ “Good for her. Anyway, how have you been since I’ve last seen you? Can you believe that I’ve finally joined Overwatch? It’s a dream come true!” Fareeha shook her by her shoulders, causing some of Angela’s hair to fall from its ponytail. Didn’t Fareeha know how much hairspray and gel she needed to keep her hair presentable?! _Fuck you, fuck Overwatch, and fuck your mother._

“I’m sure your mother must be so proud of you,” she grit out.

Ana perked up, looking at her daughter with a smile that was not returned. “Hm,” Fareeha said. “First time for everything, I guess.”

Angela tried not to feel guilty as Ana slunk away. She had started this, after all. Those living in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. A frowning Reinhardt loomed over them, casting them in shadow. “You should not be so harsh to Ana. She has been through a great deal.”

_Like not dying?_

“Yes,” Fareeha drawled, echoing Angela’s thoughts. “I’ve heard that dying is an unpleasant experience. Who would have known that the afterlife is a beach on Kauai?”

Angela cleared her throat. “Don’t you think it’s time to hang it up yourself, Reinhardt? You’re not getting any younger.” Brigitte appeared at his shoulder, looking affronted. _Though your… assistants sure are_.

“Nonsense!” Reinhardt shouted. “With Brigitte at my side, we will conquer all our foes!”  
  
Brigitte smiled up at her godfather before addressing Angela. “I’ll always be there if Reinhardt needs bailing out, don’t worry Angela!” _Ah, yes, it inspires such confidence to know a child watches over an ancient veteran._

Of course, Jack-- _oh, excuse her ‘Soldier: 76’, the man who is Most Certainly Not Jack Morrison--_ chose that moment to shove his nose in a conversation he wasn’t invited to. “If Reinhardt’s too old, then I’m too old,” he said gruffly. Angela glared at him. _Make like your hairline and recede, Jack._

“Oh, good,” Fareeha chirped. “Then we’re agreed that you, Reinhardt, and my mother don’t have any business on a battlefield.”

Jack spluttered. “You young punks think you know better than us? We’ve forgotten more about war than you’ll ever know!” _Sounds like an Alzheimer’s screening is in order._

 

**III**

IV bag securely hanging on its hook, Angela looked at her patient with concern. “You know, there isn’t a rewards program for the medbay, Hana. There are no bonuses for frequent visits.” Hana only glared, dark circles lining her eyes. She had every intention of waiting until her patient was ready to break the awkward silence, but then the lobby’s door chimed from the front of the medbay. Knowing that Hana wouldn’t talk yet, Angela sighed and closed the curtains around the bed before seeing who else needed her attention.

“Ah, Jamison. How lovely it is to see you in my medbay… again.”

“G’day, Mercy- eh, Zeigler.” Jamison giggled maniacally.

Angela narrowed her eyes immediately. _If my medbay experiences spontaneous combustion again I will force-feed him broccoli until his skin turns green._ “What can I assist you with?”

“Uh, I am in need of, er-- advice! Yes. Advice.”

_What baby-back bullshit is he up to this time_? “Medical advice?” Jamison nodded vigorously. “About?”

“Errrrr,” he drew out, focusing on something behind her. Angela whipped around, but nothing had changed in her medbay. “Sex!” _Oh for the love of--_ she rolled her eyes so hard it practically constituted a neurological exam. Initial prognosis indicated she was certainly losing brain cells to these transparent shenanigans. Jamison continued, unaware with just how unimpressed Angela was. “Yes. I am. Doin’ the sex?” An electric buzz brought Angela’s attention back to what was behind her-- “And!” Jamison interrupted. “Er, I need advice. On how to do that.” He laughed nervously again.

“Well, we have pamphlets for that.” She looked behind her again, _sure_ that she heard a noise that Hana couldn’t have made herself. Concerned that she was attempting to escape again, she strode to the patient rooms-- only to stop short when Jamison threw himself in her path.

“Wait, no! I need advice!”

“Read the _pamphlets_ , Jamison!” She pushed past him, certain that he was trying to distract her from some grander scheme. Her heels clicked sharply as she made her way to Hana’s bed and ripped the curtains back. Hana froze, eyes wide, energy drink in hand.

“Hana! _No!_ ” Hana quickly opened the tab with a loud _pop_ and started chugging the nano-cola. Angela dove forward and tried to wrench it away. They struggled for control of the can for nearly a solid minute and by the end of it they were both drenched in sticky soda.

Angela jerked the can away, breath heaving. “Who… gave this… to you?” Hana crossed her arms and pouted. “Names, Hana! _I want names!_ ” A crash that sounded suspiciously like a brochure rack falling to the floor echoed from the lobby. Angela rubbed her temple with a free hand. “JAMISON! In here! _Now!_ ”

She listened to the step- _thunk_ -step- _thunk_ of Jamison’s footsteps as he shuffled to the patient rooms. When he finally stopped in front of her, head hung, hands behind his back, Angela crossed her arms. “Tell me about your scheme.”

“Don’t tell her anything, Jamie!”

“Scheme?” Jamison asked, eyes darting about. “What scheme? Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

“I see. When was your last medical examination on your prosthetics, Jamison? Perhaps it is time for a check-up.”

Jamison flinched. “I was supposed to distract you while Satya set up a teleporter to get Lucio through with the goods.”

“Some accomplice you are,” Hana grumbled, sticking her tongue out at Jamison.

“‘Oi! I risked lectures for your stupid soda!”

Angela frowned at him coldly. “You’re risking more than that by bringing this to Hana.” _I would be more than happy to demonstrate how kneecaps are a privilege and not a human right._ “Speaking of,” she said to Hana. “You need to take your health more seriously. This is the fourth time I’ve had you in here for severe exhaustion. Energy drinks, sodas, and junk food are not what you need to recover.”

“Whatever, it was worth it! I’m number one in Starcraft 3 again! You losers just need to get on my level.”

“Get on your level?” _I’ll be sure to arrange a flight over the Marianas Trench and pack a pair of cinder blocks_. “How is working yourself to exhaustion and treating your body so poorly something to aspire to?”

“It’s a small price to pay for being the _best_. I thought you of all people would know something about that. Weren’t you a medical prodigy at my age?”

Angela grimaced internally. She wasn’t proud of her younger years. Sacrificing friends, hobbies, and health on the altar of success got her exactly what she wanted. All it cost was everything she needed.

“If that is what you think,” Angela sniffed, “then you should know that I speak from experience when I say it is not worth the long term damage.” She sat on a chair next to Hana’s bed. “I’m not telling you to stop gaming. I know how important it is to you. All I ask is that you don’t lose sight of other things.”

Hana snorted. “What’s more important than video games? It’s my livelihood, not a hobby.”

Angela held up the empty soda can. “What about the people who care enough about you to risk my wrath to make their friend feel better?” Hana looked down at her hands, abashed.  
Jamison cleared his throat. “So, er, does that mean I’m off the hook?”

“Of course,” Angela said with a predatory smile. Jamison shifted anxiously, sensing that he had sprung a trap, but not sure what the trap was. “You were only trying to look after a teammate after all.” She stood and pulled a heavy textbook from a shelf, blowing off a thick layer of dust. “Just as I am looking after a teammate by educating you on sexual health.”

Jamison gulped. “Hana, help me!”

“Your funeral will have fireworks,” Hana said solemnly, not moving from her bed.

“Thanks, mate. You’re a good friend.”

 

**IV**

Angela’s eyes nearly bulged out of her skull when she spotted Jesse in the mess hall, cigar hanging on his lip. It was one thing to smoke in one of the designated areas on base, and _quite_ another to do it in a public place where people _eat_. She marched to his table with purpose, loudly dropping her tray next to his. Genji and Zenyatta both looked startled, but Jesse only groaned.

“Don’t get started on me today, Doc! It ain’t even lit.”

“Angela!” Genji interrupted. “Hello!”

“Good afternoon to you, Doctor Zeigler.”  
Angela beamed at the two sitting across the table from her. “Good afternoon, Genji, Zenyatta.” Then it was back to business. “Why do you have it out if it wasn’t your intention to light it?”

“I just like chewin’ on the end after a meal!”

Angela took a bite of her salad and refrained from rolling her eyes. _The pinnacle of patience._ “When are you going to kick that filthy habit, Jesse?”

“I _ain’t_ kicking this habit,” he said, biting down on his cigar. “I don’t drink half as much as I used to, lemme keep this one at least!”

“Making strides to be less unhealthy is not the same as actually developing healthy habits.”

“C’mon, Doc, you don’t know what it’s like--”

She dropped her fork, allowing it to clatter on the plate and folded her arms. Jesse immediately grimaced. “No, no, you’re right. Of _course_ I don’t know anything. Why would you listen to _me_ , I’m just a medical professional with eight years of education and a decade of experience what could I _possibly_ know about what constitutes a healthy lifestyle?”

Jesse slid down in his seat in a pout. “Damn, no need to sass me like that, Doc. What’d I ever do to you?”

Genji cleared his throat. “There was that time before Venezuela.”

Jesse’s face crumbled. “Aw, naw, Doc. Tell me that ain’t it. I’ve been apologizin’ for years!”

It was Genji’s turn to wince when Angela gave him her full attention. “You know, you’ve always reminded me of a plunger.” Genji tilted his head in confusion. “Constantly bringing up _old shit_.”

Almost every head in the mess hall zoned in on them when Jesse broke out in uproarious laughter, banging the table and wheezing. Even Zenyatta’s shoulders were shaking in amusement. Angela closed her eyes and rubbed her temple. _This_ was why she usually didn’t verbalize her thoughts.

“You are in rare form today,” Zenyatta observed. “To what do we owe the occasion?”

“No occasion,” Angela said drily, still watching Genji and Jesse make fools of themselves.

“Doc,” Jesse gasped. “Doc, help me! I’m dyin’!”

Usually she wouldn’t say anything, but people were already staring, so fuck it. “Aw, somebody call the _whaa_ -mbulance.”

“Oh, _Jesus_ .” Jesse had already been red in the face from laughing so much, but now he was practically purple, laying flat out on the table and struggling to breathe. A _click_ brought Angela’s attention to Genji, who had apparently replaced his faceplate to keep up with his body’s demands for oxygen.

When their antics didn’t abate, Angela rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t that funny.”

“If,” Jesse gulped a lungful of air. “If it had been anyone else sayin’ it, I’d agree with you.”

“You do seem to know how to bring joy to those around you,” Zenyatta said in a pleased tone. Well, _probably_ pleased. It was always hard to tell with that one.

“Angela has the best sense of humor,” Genji agreed. “Her laughter could cure even the surliest patient.”

She blushed. “Yes, well, there’s no treating what _you_ have.”

Genji drew himself up, surprised. “Wha-- What do _I_ have?”  
“A cru--”

Angela cut him off. “Not one more syllable, Jesse McCree.”

“...shhhhhhhhhhh.” With that, she smacked him on the back of his hand with her fork. He drew it back with a betrayed yelp, rubbing at the faint red marks forming on his skin.

“It is times like these,” Genji snickered. “That I think you might be the dumbest person on earth.”

“He isn’t,” she disagreed, leveling her fork at Jesse’s eyes. “But he better hope that the title-holder doesn’t die. Oh, stop pouting, you look ridiculous.” Jesse did not, in fact, stop pouting.

“Perhaps it is time for us to depart,” Zenyatta announced as he stood.

“Aw, but Master.”

“It was a wonderful lunch, but we are already late for our afternoon meditation. After experiencing so much excitement, I’m sure some tranquility will do wonders.” With that, Zenyatta departed from the mess hall.

Genji got to his feet and briefly bowed to the table. “Thank you for the lunch and company,” he said with an air of defeat. “I will be going with Master to… experience tranquility.”

Jesse chuckled. “Alright, bud, don’t forget to use protection while you’re experiencing all that tranquility.”

“Jesse!” Angela slapped his arm in admonishment but Genji only chuckled.

“You will have to try harder than that to get a rise out of me, cowboy.”

“Oh, I’m sure I could get you to _rise_ all night.”

Angela stood, grabbing her plate. “And _that_ is my cue to leave.”

“Aw, doc, didn’t know you were so shy.”

“Please, I gave a sex ed class to Jamison today. I am _far_ beyond a modest prude, but _some of us_ have a mission to prepare for.”

“Haha, alright, whatever you say.” He caught her by her arm before she had the chance to walk away. Confused, she looked down at Jesse, waiting for what he had to say. His throat bobbed a few times before his easy smile returned. “Stay safe, yeah?”

Angela snorted but struck an exaggerated pose before intoning, “Heroes never die.”

“Some do,” he said solemnly, not quite meeting her eyes.

She winced. “Yes. Some do.”

 

**V**

“The payload!” Angela screeched. “Get. On. The. _Payload_.”

In the distance, over the din of gunfire and the screams of civilians scrambling to get out of the way, she could hear Zarya. “Push forwards, comrades! Give it everything you’ve got!”

_Fine, don’t mind me, I’ll just be the only one doing what we were sent to do!_ Crouching to minimize danger of getting hit, Angela was careful not to peek over the top of the payload. _hEaL mE aNgEla!_ _BoOsT mE aNgeLa! Then abandon me at the first sight of a more interesting target._ She took a steadying breath and peeked around the corner. No one seemed to notice the payload mysteriously moving itself. Yet. Maybe she could get it up to the rest of the team before--

“Going somewhere?” An accented voice asked. Angela whirled, still crouched, in time to see a woman clad in purple smirking down at her, SMG in hand. With a surprised yelp, she lashed out with her staff, barely missing the other woman’s head.

“Ay! Watch where you--”

Angela ignored her, too busy panicking at being caught out on her own to process the words. She swung her staff through the air again, this time catching the woman’s ankle. Purple woman pitched forward, landing hard on the ground.

“ _Hijo de puta_ \--”

No hesitation, Angela had to knock her out, _now._ With both hands, she lifted her staff high before using all her strength to bring it down on purple woman’s head-- only to hit the asphalt instead. Angela blinked. She… she hadn’t closed her eyes bracing for the impact, had she? Where did purple woman go? A quick scan of her surroundings didn’t give any indication that anyone had ever even attacked her. Angela took a deep breath, ignored her shaking hands, and continued to move the payload towards its destination.

200 meters… 150 meters… 100 meters away from her target. She had almost single-handedly brought the payload from start to finish and her team was still nowhere in sight. _If intelligence were a curse, this team would be uncommonly blessed_.

75 meters.

The comms flared to life. “I could use some healing!” Lena said urgently. “On the rooftops!”

Rooftops? Even if Zenyatta hadn’t disappeared with the rest of the team, he wouldn’t be able to provide medical assistance at such a height. She was the only other medic on the team, but….

“Anyone there? I need back--” Lena cut herself off with a scream. Angela’s head snapped up, scanning the rooftops for any sign of her.

“Tracer, you need to come to the edge so I can fly to you!”

No response.

“Tracer?”

Angela stopped guiding the payload, the life of a teammate far exceeded the value of a completed mission. She _had_ to find a way up to the top. Desperately looking around for a fire escape, a stack of crates, _anything_ , Angela almost missed Lena directly above her.

She couldn’t get a good look of her condition from there, Lena being two stories up, but the pained slouch of her shoulders was more than enough to convey a sense of urgency. Not even the usual rush of endorphins of flying was enough to soothe the worry in Angela’s gut.

A gentle manipulation of the Valkyrie wings allowed her to overshoot Lena, affording her a clear view of her surroundings. They appeared to be alone but--

The crack of a gunshot split the night. Pieces of plastic and metal that used to constitute her comm band fell past Angela’s wide eyes. She folded her wings immediately, surrendering herself to gravity in a bid to exit the sniper’s field of vision as rapidly as possible. The ground rushed up at her, but she waited until the last possible moment to spread her wings again. Waited too long-- she was going too fast and she landed hard, pain lancing up her left arm from her wrist.

Blinking back the tears that watered in response to the pain, Angela scooted her way towards Lena, keeping her head low. The smaller woman didn’t move when Angela shook her. Looking closely at her face, she saw that Lena had passed out. There were no obvious wounds or blood on her body, but Angela didn’t know how she could examine or treat her patient if they were pinned down by a sniper. How was she supposed to defend them with a sprained wrist? She couldn’t even use her staff properly! _Should’ve packed more body bags,_ she thought darkly as she measured Lena’s steady heartbeat.

She tapped on her comm, only to realize it was damaged beyond repair. The only way to contact the team was to take Lena’s comm link, but if she did that and they ended up getting separated, there wouldn’t be any way to track Lena through her comm. Reaching her decision, Angela flipped the emergency beacon switch on Lena’s comm. Hopefully, someone was close enough to come help, otherwise--

A crunch of gravel interrupted her thoughts. Someone was directly on the other side of the air unit providing their cover. Her pulse skyrocketed, and she pulled Lena’s comm out of her ear-- forget separation, if she didn’t call for help immediately, they’d die. She frantically whispered into the comm, begging someone, anyone, to come and help them, as the steps came closer and closer.

And then they stopped.

Slowly, she looked up from Lena’s prone body, dreading to see who had come to claim their lives. Her blood turned to ice at the sight of the nanite cloud swirling into a solid silhouette. Tall, broad, menacing-- he could have been a modern rendition of Jack the Ripper. And here she was, alone on the rooftops, far from any conscious teammate or thread of hope, facing one of the most prolific killers of their time. _Reaper_.

She was barely conscious of whispering into Lena’s comm as he bore down on her, nanites blurring his outline. “To anyone still alive,” she said through numb lips. “I am very disappointed in you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**\+ I**

She came to in a bare concrete room. There was no luxury of wondering what happened or where she was. Reaper stood in a corner, arms crossed, leaning against the wall next to the only door. Fear and adrenaline demanded that she attempt escape, no matter how futile, but the metal cuffs binding her to the steel chair didn’t budge. Reaper watched her, no expression in his bone-white mask or in his body language.

Tears pricked at her eyes and when Reaper raised a fist, she flinched. The killer paused before rapping on the metal door beside him twice. 

Nothing happened.

Sweat trickled down her back. The minutes stretched on. The adrenaline began to fade and the pain in her wrist was becoming more and more difficult to ignore. Reaper never moved, never shifted. Exhaustion began to pull at her eyes. She had been up for nearly twenty hours by the time she got captured, and there was no telling just how long she’d been held captive. Her body was sore and aching and her eyes were becoming so  _ heavy _ .

Reaper pushed off the wall and stood at attention.

Her heart was beating so loudly, she almost didn’t hear the door’s handle turn. Reaper might have been tall, but the man who walked through the door was nothing short of massive. For an absurd moment, all Angela could think was  _ Reinhardt would be thrilled to wrestle him _ . The new man stopped in front of her, so close she could see the fine threading on his clearly bespoke suit.

“Good evening,” he said with a conman’s smile. “I am Akande Ogundimu and I have an offer for you, Dr. Zeigler.”

“I’m hardly in a position to negotiate,” she rasped bitterly, eyes darting behind Ogundimu to find Reaper hadn’t left. He was still there, hovering by the door, staring.

Ogundimu chuckled deeply. “At the present you are in no position to  _ leave _ . You very much have the ability to negotiate-- and I say there is still a great deal you stand to gain.”

She let the lie roll over her. “What do you want?”

“Ah, there’s the spirit! It is always much more fun when both parties participate, don’t you agree?”

Angela glared at him. It was petty and pointless. Sue her. She was going to die anyway.

“You would rather I make the first offer? A shrewd bargainer! Very well.” He folded his hands in front of him. “As you may know, I lead the multinational conglomerate known as Talon. We aspire to grand ideals-- an ambition we share if my sources are to be believed.”

“Sources?” Who was reporting on her? How could they be skilled enough that Angela’s never seen them, but amateurish enough to be so thoroughly wrong? “I don’t know what you  _ think _ you know about me, but I have always been a pacifist. I will never agree with blind violence.”

“And yet you’ve joined Overwatch again, despite its rather violent history.”

“Overwatch was reformed to stop  _ you _ . The moment they achieve that goal, I will no longer need to provide my services.”  
“They?” Ogundimu tutted. “Not even enough loyalty to consider yourself a part of the team. Consider what you could achieve among like-minded individuals.”

“Talon is nothing more than warlords united by the prospect of profit. What commonality do you expect to find in me? What do you even want me to do for you? I know for a fact O’Deorian is on your payroll. Our specialties overlap.”

“O’Deorian,” he said slowly. “Does not have the latest intel on Overwatch operations.”

She froze. He wanted her to betray Overwatch? Images flashed through her mind-- Winston grinning, enthusing about his latest project. Jack and Ana sipping tea together on the cliffs. Jamison and Lucio’s laughter filling the halls during another of Hana’s streams. Jesse awkwardly trying to fold his legs to mimic Zenyatta and Genji’s meditation poses. Lena lying unconscious on a rooftop.

Rage overtook her shock. Overwatch was corrupt. Dirty. Violent. A necessary evil. But not the people in it. Not her friends. Her  _ family _ . What could she have ever done to make Ogandimu’s ‘source’ believe that she would not only join Talon, but betray Overwatch?

Ogundimu seemed to have mistaken her silence for interest. He was still talking, still trying to sell the idea. The anger in her chest seemed to expand and intensify with every word that fell from his lips. How could he think she was considering this?! Could he not see her expression? Did he not care? Or was he simply so high on his own arrogance that nothing that didn’t serve to aggrandize his ego was worth noticing?

She was bound and she doubted he would listen to anything but a ‘yes’, so she communicated her distaste in the most culturally universal gesture she could think of. 

It worked. Ogundimu wiped the spit from his face with a disgusted sneer. He wasted no charisma on her as he left, not bothering to continue his ‘bargaining’ charade. The only words he said were to Reaper, just before he opened the door. “Try not to leave your scraps on the floor this time.”

Angela’s eyes snapped to Reaper.  _ Leave scraps _ ? She didn’t… she didn’t think those rumors were true. Reaper pushed off the wall. God she… she knew she was going to die. She knew. Her life was forfeit the moment she was caught on the roof. She thought she was alright with that. It was a risk she accepted when she joined Overwatch the  _ first _ time. But she never bargained on getting eaten alive.

He was walking towards her now. His cape-like duster swirled around his leather boots, much like the clouds of nanites swirled around his shoulders and hands. Even the shadows in the room seemed to surge and roil unnaturally, reaching greedily towards her.

She was shaking, trembling, practically vibrating within her bonds. It was a struggle to keep her back straight, to face her end bravely as the nightmarish ghoul drifted closer. She almost succeeded, too, until Reaper leaned over her, his hands covering her wrists. But it was too much. She cringed into herself, her screaming wrist barely registering against the overwhelming terror crowding her mind. He was so close to her, his mask filled her entire vision, ghostly white shadowed by his hood.

Reaper lifted his gloved hand, scraping a talon-like finger over her cheek before pausing. “Camera’s down,” he growled.

Suddenly, he wasn’t in front of her anymore. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision of tears. Where did he-- Behind her! She couldn’t twist in her chair, but she could hear her hairband snap,  feel him-- running his hand through her hair? Nausea seized her, fear blending with confusion in a toxic concoction.

“Stop whimpering,” he commanded. “We don’t have much time and your ridiculous hair would break my silhouette.”

Was she in shock? Is that why she couldn’t seem to process any of what was happening?

“Hey, breathe!” He ordered. Wasn’t she?  _ Wasn’t she _ ? “Shit, we do  _ not _ have time for this.” He was in front of her again, squatting, eye level. “Breathe with me, Angela.” Reaper rasped deeply and she vaguely recognized that he was trying to guide her through this, to help her get oxygen to her brain, but maybe it wouldn’t be so damn  _ difficult  _ if he was a human and not a demon about to  _ eat her alive _ .

Reaper seemed to recognize this too. He was looking down between his feet. That helped. Not looking at a skull-faced death. Then he had to ruin it by looking at her again. He raised his hand and she flinched away, digging her heels into the concrete in a desperate attempt to scoot back a chair soldered to the floor. But he didn’t reach for her, he reached for his own mask, slipping it off noiselessly.

“No--  _ No _ .” He said, voice no longer garbled and growling. “Breathe with me.” Voice no longer a demon’s. “That’s it, Angie, you got it.” The voice of a dead man. The face of a dead man. Dead. Dead dead dead.

“No, angel cake, I’m not dead. I’m right here.” He lifted his hand again and though he hesitated, Angela didn’t have the sense to flinch away before he gently cupped her cheek. “You doing better?”

“Gabe?” She choked out.

Gabriel pressed a finger to his lips, half-smirking. “Sh, don’t need to let all of Talon know who I really am.”

After all of the terror, all the anger, and the absolute horror she’d experienced in only the past few minutes, it really shouldn’t have surprised her when she burst into tears. It certainly didn’t seem to surprise Gabriel.  
“I know, I know, you can call me an asshole later. I’ll deserve it. First, I need to get you out of here--  _ yes _ ,” He emphasized when she started shaking her head. “You are getting out of here. This place is crawling with people who want to kill you and as I very much want you to  _ live _ , that means you  _ leave _ .” He looked down at the iron cuffs in consideration before simply wrenching them apart.

He stood and held his hand out to her. “Can you stand?”

Could she? It didn’t matter. She  _ had _ to. She grabbed his hand and used it to pull herself to her unsteady feet. Her legs felt as substantial as marshmallows and she almost stumbled into Gabe.

“Easy there,” he steadied her with both hands, looking her up and down with concern. Then his eyes locked with hers. And he smiled. His upturned lips pulled and pushed at the many scars criss crossing his face, some white and faded, some pink and fresh. The hair at his temple was brushed with white and gray. It wasn’t the face she’d learned to love ten years ago, but there was no question that is was Gabriel. His eyes, though, those were the same. Warm, brown, filled with affection. Her legs very nearly gave out again. “What? Nothing to say to an old flame?”

What could she say? He was alive! Gabe was  _ alive _ ! He’d.. been alive. Never dead at all. It took her a few times before she could actually speak, opening and closing her mouth, and when her voice finally came out it wasn’t much more than a croak. “I am fluent in three languages,” she said, wiping some of the tears from her face. “Conversational in two, and none of my vast linguistic knowledge is sufficient to convey just how much I want to hit you with a chair.”

They stared at each other for a second, neither quite believing what she chose as her first words to a man she thought long dead. Then he was laughing, pulling her in for a bone-crushing embrace. “God, I’ve missed you so much,” he said.

Damn it, she was blinking back tears again.

He pulled back abruptly. “Angela,” he said, a tone of caution or worry in his voice. “There’s only one way I can get you out of here. I’ve never actually tried it before, but theoretically it should work fine. I’m… I’m gonna need you to trust me.”

Angela stared. Trust a man who let her believe he was dead for nearly ten years? Trust a man who was apparently fighting on the other team? Who, if the news reports were to be believed, was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people?

“I trust you.”

Gabe grinned and pulled her in for another hug. This time, she let herself sink into it, allowing herself to enjoy the surety and safety she’s always felt in his arms. Something was odd, though. Her arms were tingling, almost tickling. What’s more, the sensation was spreading. She opened her eyes.

“Gabe?” The panic in her voice was evident even to her own ears. A completely justifiable emotion when nanites are  _ crawling over her skin _ .

“Easy,” a disembodied voice said. It was Gabe’s voice, obviously, but it wasn’t coming from where it was supposed to.

She whipped her head to look at Gabe, but his face wasn’t there. His entire  _ head  _ wasn’t there. His body was dissolving before her very eyes, the nanites apparently disassembling and moving to her instead, rapidly encasing her limbs.

“Gabe, what’s happening?”

“Just trust me,” he said, voice somewhere over her stomach now, vibrating strangely. “Need to concentrate.”

So she stood there, allowing her arms fall to her side, eyes wide as she watched the black clouds progress over her body. She managed to stay still even as the nanites began to solidify, forming into the shape of Gabriel. In no time, she was wearing his boots, his pants, his cloak, his  _ skin _ . Then the nanites were crawling up her neck, into her hair, and then her  _ face _ . Her breath was coming quicker--

“Shh,” Gabe soothed. His voice was everywhere now, rumbling through her chest. “Let’s just… adjust for a moment.”

Watching the nanites roll over her skin made her feel nauseous, so she closed her eyes. It… it wasn’t so bad. She could breathe fine, it didn’t feel like she was being crushed or squeezed. If anything, it felt like wearing a particularly thick, form-fitting sweater. Right. Just clothes. Not like she was wearing a  _ person _ as a bodysuit. A bodysuit that… pulsed?

She quieted her breathing, concentrating on the vague sensation. It was barely detectable, not much more than a gentle, feather-light constriction. It was rhythmic, almost like-- Angela inhaled sharply as the shock and sheer  _ wonder _ of feeling Gabe’s heartbeat registered.

“Are you okay?” Gabe asked her, concerned.

“Yes, fine.” She marveled over his pulse for a few more beats. “So. How many people have been inside you?”

He snorted-- and it was really quite strange, the way the sound seemed to echo in her throat. “Cute. Do you wanna try moving?”

“Alright,” she said, immediately reaching out with her good arm. There was a moment’s resistance before her arm obeyed, but then her arm wasn’t covered in nanites anymore. “Is that supposed to happen?” Even as she asked, though, nanites were reforming over her arm, covering it in Gabe’s jacket and gloved hands.

“Well you didn’t give me a warning!”

“I presume you mean for us to walk out of here like this. I can’t very well whisper instructions to you as we walk past the guards.”

“Let me try initiating movement.” The sensation began at her knee, spreading through her whole leg. It felt much like standing in a river with a strong current, though not strong enough to take her feet out from under her. Curious, Angela looked down while resisting the movement. Gabe’s knee was stretched unnaturally, nearly double the width it normally was as he attempted to move their legs in tandem. Experimentally, she relaxed her leg, putting all of her weight on the other, and watched with scientific interest as the nanites guided her leg a step in front of her.

She wondered… “I’m going to try something.”

“What--” he grunted as she relaxed  _ all  _ of her muscles, letting him catch her dead weight.

“Can you move us?”

Their right arm stretched out to grab Gabe’s mask from where he left it on the floor.  _ Absolutely fascinating _ . They took a few steps. He reached out with their left arm to push against the steel chair--

“What?” Gabe asked, alarmed. “What happened?”

“Sorry,” Angela hissed. “Sprained wrist.”

Gabe was quiet for a moment. “We need to get you out.” She didn’t know whether to feel exasperated or reassured by his stubborn tone. They placed the mask over their face and stepped towards the door.

“And what about you?” She whispered as they carefully opened the door and exited the cell.

“Don’t take that obstinate tone with me.” He whispered back. It came out as a little more than a quiet growl and Angela could see one of the cell’s guards swallow anxiously.

She waited until they were in an empty corridor before she pressed him. “I want an answer.”

The silence stretched on. She didn’t know where they were going, how much further until their exit. He could simply wait her out. “...I’m staying.”

“Why?”

They hooked a left. “I’ve got a job to do.”

“And what about Overwatch? What about Ana and Jack? They’re alive, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“...Do they know?”

“Yeah. Pretty sure Jack recognized me immediately. Shooting each other is practically a ‘good morning, how are you’ for us. Ana was an accident.”

They knew and they never told her. They  _ knew _ . “What about me?” She asked quietly.

Gabriel didn’t answer. She tried not to let the hurt wash over her, resisted the temptation to stop walking and let Gabe go on without her-- only to realize they  _ had  _ stopped. She blinked, confused. No one else was in the hall with them. Why had he stopped them? That’s when she spotted a brief purple ripple at the end of the hall. Then again to their left, the right, then finally right in front of them. The light shimmered strongly before resolving into a woman-- the same purple-clad woman who had attacked her earlier that night. 

_ Was  _ it still the same night that they launched the mission? Was it even still night? How long had she been here?

“Sombra,” Gabriel growled through the voice modulator.

“Gabrielito!” The woman named Sombra gushed, grinning coquettishly. Angela’s eye twitched. “How did it go?” She leaned around him, as if looking for someone. Gabe held them stiffly, not moving an inch. Sombra looked back up into their eyes, seeming crestfallen. “Oh. Did Akande make you…?”

Gabe turned their head away.

“ _ Lo siento mucho _ .”

“I’m getting some air.”

“Would you like some company?”

“No… thank you.”

Sombra nodded, still looking sympathetic and sorrowful. She flickered purple before disappearing from their sight.

Angela waited for Gabriel to break the silence, not sure if Sombra was truly gone.

“She’s gone.” Gabriel eventually said. “I can tell you have questions.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped.”

Gabe snorted. “You had your chance back in the cell. You  _ literally  _ spit in its face. Not gonna lie, that turned me on a little.”

She blushed, thankful he couldn’t see her face. “Yes, well.”

“Come on,” he teased her. “Say what you’re thinking. I’d  _ love _ to know what you think of my boss.”

She grumbled but finally relented. “I’ve never seen a bigger asshole in my life, and I’ve taken a proctology course.”

His deep laughter reverberated in her chest, but also in her skull, producing an odd but thoroughly pleasant buzz. Unthinkingly, she tried to cover her face with her hand, only realizing her mistake when she saw her pale hand split from Gabe’s. It was just her luck that a Talon guard had turned the corner just in time to see Reaper grow a third, distinctly feminine arm. Even from where they stood, Angela could see the guard’s rifle shake in one hand while he made the sign of the cross with the other.

The guard was dead before his body hit the floor. They ran past him, no time to waste now that she had blown their cover. Really, it was Gabe’s fault. He could have simply played off her mistake, but violence was always his first answer. This was a problem of his own choosing and she was going to make sure he knew it.

“Gabriel!” It was strange not being out of breath while running. Well, technically, Gabriel was running for the two of them. It felt like an oddly immersive VR game.

“What?” He bit back, clearly annoyed.

“He was harmless!” They turned another corner to entire a hall identical to the one they left. “You didn’t need to kill him!”

“He saw you. It’s either him dead or you dead. Not a difficult choice.”

“ _ Neither _ of us needed to die he was clearly terrified!”

“Triggers are much easier to pull when you’re scared. It’s physics.”

“Physics?! At best, it’s psychology and you know that’s hardly substantive--” She cut herself off, the pleasant buzz in her skull signaling his humor. “Oh, fuck you Reyes, you said that on purpose.”

“I couldn’t help it! You’re too easy.”

“ _ I’m  _ too easy-- on your right!” In one smooth motion, Gabriel pulled his shotgun from its holster and fired into the security bot. It went down in a cascade of bright sparks.

“They’ve deployed bots,” he grumbled. “Great. We better hope Morrison is on time for once in his goddamn life or we’re going to be in trouble.

“You’re having Jack pick me up?!”

“Sorry, my chauffeur is having her once-a-year vacation.”

“He’s going to be insufferable about this.”

“As opposed to any given moment where he  _ isn’t  _ insufferable?”

“Ugh, do you know he refuses to answer to his name? He’s going by Soldier 76.  _ Everyone _ knows it’s him, who is he trying to convince?!”

“Prima donnas gonna prima donna.”

“Maybe now that you’re back he’ll stop being such a--  _ oof _ .” They had skidded to a halt and Angela tried to grapple with the forward momentum without moving outside of Gabe’s silhouette.

They peeked around the corner to find a contingent of security bots. “We’ll go around.” Turning, they backtracked to two halls before. “And I’m not ‘back’, I’ve still got a job to do.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ve murdered one of your own and triggered your security bots. Talon’s going to know that you’ve betrayed them.”

“Reaper’s known for indiscriminate murders every once in a while, they won’t think anything of it. I’m probably just gonna blame this all on Jack anyway. Sombra will touch up the camera feeds for me.”

“Sombra? Is she the reason you’re staying?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Her and Lacroix. I’m going to get them out and then I’m going to burn Talon to the ground. Easy as that.”

“Easy as that? How many years have you been a part of Talon? Healing crystals work faster than you.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in-- oh that’s the joke. Ha ha, very funny. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“No, but it was sacked in three.”

“That is a gross oversimplification of the socio-political factors that led to Rome's collapse and you know it.” He paused. “Dammit, you  _ did _ know it, you said that on purpose!”

"Too easy," she purred.

They burst through another door and suddenly they were outside. The sky was still dark, but pinks were starting to tinge the horizon. Though there weren’t any bodies of water in sight, the smell of salt hung in the predawn air, which meant there must be an ocean or gulf nearby.

There was no sight of Jack.

“Is this where you agreed to meet with him or--” The sound of rotary blades drowned out the rest of her question as an Orca transporter crested the cliff behind them. It hovered next to the roof long enough for Jack to stick his visored face out the door.

Gabe yelled at him over the noise. "You're late, asshole!"

"Where's Zeigler?!" Jack shouted back.

_ Oh, right, they were still… ah, let's go with 'together' _ . Taking control of her body for the first time in nearly an hour, she stepped outside Gabe's body. The cold hit her immediately, no longer protected by Gabe's warmth. She winced as it caused goosebumps on every inch of exposed skin.

"C'mon!" Jack urged her.

She stepped forward, then paused, looking back at Gabe.

Removing his mask, he gripped her shoulder with his other hand. "I'll be with you soon."

"You better be."

His lips quirked up and he drew her in, angling for a kiss. She stopped him with a hand on his mouth.

"You come home.  _ Then _ you get your homecoming kiss."

Behind her fingers, she could feel him grin. He gently pulled her hand from his face and kissed her palm.

"I'll be holding you to that."

"I expect you'll be holding me to much more than that. Preferably against a variety of surfaces."

As soon as he let go of her hand, she wished he hadn't. Why'd she spit in Ogundimu's face? Couldn't she have pretended to be evil for a few weeks? She pretended to be patient every day.

"Stay out of trouble," he called, already replacing his mask.

She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything more, instead turning and sprinting to the Orca. Jack caught her easily, pulling her through the door before sealing it shut.

"I wish I could say watching a full-grown human emerging from  _ another _ full-grown human was the strangest thing I've seen in my life," Jack grumbled before moving further into the Orca.

“Angela!” Lena’s cry was her only warning before the much smaller woman barrelled into her side. “I was so worried about you!”

Startled and relieved that Lena was alive and well, Angela pat her back with her good arm. “I was worried about you, too, you know.” Lena squeezed her tighter and Angela brushed back her hair. Sometimes she forgot how young Lena was. “Who’s flying?”

“Oh, me, technically. It’s on autopilot right now, of course, but I just wouldn’t have felt right if I didn’t fly you home. It was  _ my  _ fault Reaper caught you in the first place.”

“It was no one’s fault, Lena,” Angela said soothingly. “It’s a risk we all signed up for.”

“That’s what Ja-- er, Soldier, said.” 

Angela stiffened. “Why don’t you go back to the cockpit? I need to speak with Jack and then I’ll be right there.” Lena tilted her head with a frown, but nodded anyway. 

She waited until Lena was out of sight before turning on her heel and advancing on Jack until he had his back to the door.

"You knew he was alive,” she said, overly sweet. “You knew he was alive and you didn't tell me, Jack."

His orange visor hid his eyes from her view, but she could easily imagine him avoiding her gaze. "I've told you, I'm not Ja--"

"For the rest of your life," she hissed, lacking the energy to even pretend she gave half a shit about his dramatics. "In your most private moments, know that the only thing preventing me from waterboarding you with your own bio emitters is the knowledge that Winston would be heartbroken if I killed  _ Jack _ .  _ Morrison _ . Are we clear?"

"Clear."

She patted the side of his masked face. "Good. Now, let's get back to base. We have a multinational conglomerate to burn down."

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Dan!


End file.
